Dating double standards are ridiculous, because even when you do all of that, you still get screwed – metaphorically, of course. You sleep with someone too soon and it’s the whole “getting the milk for free” bullshit. They ghost you. You don’t sleep with someone and they’re pissed that you “don’t want the same things” … you get ghosted. Basically, if you have any sense of autonomy at all, all roads pretty much lead to getting ghosted.

And now there’s also breadcrumbing and kittenfishing on top of that, whatever that means. It doesn’t help that what’s expected of men is a lot less spelled out. You’d think a little respect, or you know, treating you like a human being wouldn’t be too much to ask. And yet here we are.

To give an example, let’s talk about my bizarro date with Bob from OkCupid. (Obviously his name isn’t really Bob. But like Beyonce said, “You know I’m not gon’ diss you on the internet/ ‘cause my mama taught me better than that.”)

Bob wanted to sleep with me. That was obvious. He pulled all of the typical bullshit lines to get back to your apartment that can seem like he’s interested in you but really mean he’s interested in getting into your pants. And that’s totally fine. Because I’m 27 and I know the drill. So we went back to my apartment. (Don’t @ me.)

Now I was on my period — I know, I apologize for even mentioning this somehow still taboo completely normal bodily function — so I knew sex was off the table. Because most guys are not into period sex.

Ew, periods are gross. How disgusting that a woman’s body is shedding all of the material it had been preparing to CREATE HUMAN LIFE. Let’s make all women feel ashamed of this goddamn miracle that no man will ever be able to accomplish.

Anyway, that’s why, despite the fact that we were fooling around, I knew it wasn’t really going to go anywhere. Poor Bob didn’t though. He tried to make that move and I had to give him the “bad news.” And yet, he didn’t back down. He continued kissing me before whining, “Are you suuuure?” Am I sure about what, man? Use your words.

Then he pushes again. “Are you sure you don’t want to do it?” Ooh. “IT?” Well, now as sexy as that offer was, I’ve found I have fewer fucks to give as I grow older. So I pretty much just repeated myself, like, dude — I’m on my period. And so he opted — unsurprisingly — to “wait.”

But then just like that he decided that even though he was okay with waiting, he was not okay with the fact that I was okay with waiting. “Why aren’t you more upset?” “Why aren’t you angry with me?” “Why didn’t you push me?” This guy was literally upset with me for not being upset that he didn’t want to have sex with me on my period.

I tried to explain myself, like, well, I kind of figured you wouldn’t be into that. Most guys aren’t. You know, girl cooties or something. But again, that still wasn’t good enough. So then he starts asking me all these questions about how many other guys I was seeing and/or sleeping with. “How recently did you have sex?”

“Is that why you were so okay with not having sex with me tonight?” As if I’d just been sitting around waiting for the arrival of his majestic cock and should have been devastated at the lost opportunity. I didn’t want to answer because a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.

Image via Comedy Central/Entity

But more seriously, it also felt really personal and unnecessary, and I just got the vibe that I would definitely be judged. It just feels like the kind of questioning that can’t lead to anything good. Like, what purpose does this serve?

You doing some kind of sociological survey for the good of mankind? Because otherwise I feel like any questions about sex math are just for the sake of your own ego, and brother, it is not going to end well.

Boy, was I right about that. And as a Type A, Monica Geller-level perfectionist, I typically enjoy being right. But not then. See, I’m an honest person. To a fault. I totally could have lied here. I could have said it had been longer than it was.

Or hell, I could have said I was a virgin. I have big eyes and porcelain skin. I basically look like a Disney cartoon. He would have believed it. And you know the sickest thing? He probably would have friggin’ loved that.

via Disney/Giphy

But I’m not a liar. So finally, after he persisted… and persisted… and persisted — dude would NOT let it go — I told him the truth. And let me tell you, he did not like my answer. Homeboy got up and RAN out of my apartment. Literally ran. Like, Usain Bolt smiling at the paparazzi ran. Right out of my apartment.

I was stunned speechless for a minute. But then I texted him, like… WTF?! He says he couldn’t be around a “serial dater” — GOD FORBID — and also called me a liar for good measure? Not really sure how I was a liar, seeing as my honesty had just gotten me into trouble. But I guess just calling me a whore wasn’t quite good enough.

He called a few minutes later, trying to apologize because he realized he overreacted and had been a total douchebag. He wanted me to come out and talk, but forget that. Because you know what I realized? This dude spent all night trying to get me to sleep with him. Then literally bolted out of my apartment at the notion of me sleeping with someone else.

So apparently we have to be “slutty” enough to sleep with someone we just met… but then also “pure” enough to never have considered doing that same thing with anyone else but him. Because that’s a fair expectation.

As women we apparently have to be both Mary Magdalene and the Virgin Mary. (And yes, I know historians have since proved that Mary Magdalene wasn’t actually a prostitute, but bear with me here.) One woman can’t be both. We’re not caricatures of expectations. We’re multifaceted, flawed human beings.

But thankfully, I just so happened to have watched Netflix’s new “The Incredible Jessica James” this week — which is incredible, BTW — which inspired me to make this gif. Which will now be my new life mantra. (Shout out to Jessica Williams.)

image via Netflix/Entity

Because I am “friggin’ dope.” And that guy was a dick. Straight up. So for any other women out there dealing with patriarchal bullshit like this, I want to share a few reminders:

1. You don’t have to sleep with anyone that you don’t want to. EVER.

2. You can sleep with whoever the fuck you want. WHENEVER YOU WANT.

3. Your sexual history is your business. And it is nothing to be ashamed of. The only concern should be yours — and whether you’re happy and comfortable and being safe.

4. No one else gets to determine your worth. Like Joe says in “The Princess Diaries” (quoting Eleanor Roosevelt), “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Do not give them that consent. Screw that.

image via Tumblr

Bottom line is, as long as what you’re doing isn’t hurting yourself or others — do whatever the hell you want to do. Who cares what anyone else thinks? Least of all Bob from OkCupid. What does he know?

It’s 2017 for God’s sake. How are we even still having this discussion? Like, women like sex. Women are funny. Planned Parenthood is not just an abortion clinic. Hillary’s emails don’t mean shit. The LGBTQ+ community deserves the same rights as all the rest of us. Am I leaving anything out?

Look, we may not be able to control the rest of the morons in our society, or how they decide to treat us. But what we can do is be totally, completely and unapologetically, 100 percent ourselves (whenever it is safe to do so). And if that means being autonomous in our sex lives, then do it. And don’t feel badly about it.

And if some schmoe from a second-tier dating app can’t handle that, well, then you’re better off without him anyway. Boy, bye.

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